


30 Day OTP Challenge

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Clothes swap, First Date, First Kiss, M/M, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Day OTP Challenge</p><p>(Note: May Not Be Continued)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding On

Contrary to popular belief, Tim hated running. It was irritating, mind-numbing and, above all, made it very hard to focus. Running across roof tops was the worst. Now he had to calculate roof slanting, AC vents, broken shingles and the occasional flock of particularly aggressive pigeon. And yet, as he’d been taught since he was thirteen, it would all be worth it when he finally brought the criminals to justice.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he scrambled over the steadily decaying rooftops of Gotham’s south side.

Tim ducked a low hanging pipe, cursing the day man thought outdoor plumbing was a good idea. He was only inches away from catching the rapist he’d been tracking for the past month. The man had finally slipped up and now Tim would be able to grab him.

The ominous cracking of the roof under foot told a different story.

“Hey!” Tim shouted to the man running ahead of him. “Stop! You’re going to fall!”

Criminal or not, no one deserved to fall through shattered buildings. Tim had been there and done that. He didn’t wish that fate on anyone.

The man aimed a wildly swinging gun over his shoulder. Whatever he yelled at Tim was completely lost in the explosion of the shot.

Tim had no choice but to dive to the side. He elbow struck a pipe hard enough to earn a hiss of annoyance. He made to get up but a second shot assured that he only stayed down. Skirting the edge of the pipe work, Tim straightened back up.

There was a pause as he searched for the man again. Already a full building ahead, the man was close to hitting the docks. Tim would lose him there for sure. He debated the grapple line, but as fragile as the buildings were proving to be, he didn’t want to risk throwing a harsh weight at them.

“Come on, this is not how I wanted to spend a Friday night,” he muttered.

As gingerly and as quickly as he could, he picked his way over the buildings. Wood was snapping under his feet and poor concrete was crumbling away. Just another factor he had to add into his list of things to remember while he ran.

And yet he still managed to completely forget it when he jumped the last few feet to grab the criminal’s jacket.

The man yelped and twisted in Tim’s grip. He threw his arm up, attempting to hit Tim with the gun.

Tim pulled out of the way. In a swift movement that would have made Batman proud, he got the man down and zip-tied. He stepped back ready to phone the Oracle when the tiny factor he’d forgotten came crashing back down.

Literally.

Tim managed a noise of surprise as the roof gave away under him. He jerked enough to be able to shove the criminal out of the way, but that didn’t do much to save himself. The shattered beams dragged against his back, promising a very unpleasant ride down.

It was strange, Tim thought, to come across a very real version of the abyss he’d been falling into for weeks. It wasn’t comforting in anyway, but it was interesting.

Tim’s thoughts scrambled for the right course of action. He prided himself on making plans, but right now he was coming up blank. At the worst possible moment his brain was giving up on him. His heart pounded in fear and adrenaline, at least pumping to the last moment. Limbs that Tim counted on daily were utterly useless in the unplanned free fall.

Just when Tim was sure he’d completely failed himself, something wrapped around his hand and jerked him to a halt.

Pain ricocheted up his arm, drawing a grunt from him.

“Sorry, but I really only had one shot,” Dick stated from above, not sounding very sorry at all.

Tim tilted his head back to look at him. He attempted a glare but it was severely dampened by the relief flooding through him. “Just make sure my hand isn’t broken,” he replied.

Batman should never look that amused. As it was, Dick was wearing the cowl and he couldn’t keep amusement out of anything.

“You’re hand? I’d be more worried about your back.” Dick lowered his other hand to take Tim’s. “Come on; let’s get you out of here.”

Tim clutched Dick’s hands tight as he was pulled up and out of the gaping hole. Standing straight again, he found he didn’t really want to let go. He sacrificed at least one hand for his dignity.

Dick didn’t complain and didn’t pull away.

“I called Oracle for you,” he said, his hand tight and warm around Tim’s. “Your criminal got safely moved to another roof by Robin. He should be picked up soon.”

Tim nodded. He was quiet a moment, considering his own inability to save himself. His gaze shifted from the broken roof to his hand, locked with Dick’s. It was something to hold on to, to reassure himself that he wasn’t falling. Not alone at least.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“I promised you once I would never let you fall.”

And, really, Batman should never smile but, for once, Tim didn’t mind. Not with the comforting warmth wrapped around his hand.


	2. Total Warmth

Dick Grayson thrived on touch. He had entire relationships built around it. In a world and life where someone could disappear in the blink of an eye, touch allowed him the brief moment of knowing they ever existed. For him, touch could heal, destroy and create all in one moment. He learned more from a person just from a single touch then any grand speech could ever explain.

Dick needed touch like the average human needed air.

And everyone knew it; especially Tim Drake.

Tim knew what Dick thrived on. He’d been studying the man since he was three years old. He was sure he knew Dick better than he knew himself. When Tim was much younger, he had become convinced that Dick was blind, just based on how much he relied on touch. Now, years later, Tim realized how silly that was.

Dick used to touch to heal, Tim had learned that very quickly. Usually, he touched to make sure the other person was okay, that they would be okay. Or he did it to remind himself that he was going to be just fine. A physical comfort in an utterly abysmal situation.

Tim was so very different. He hated people touching or even being around when he was upset. He found them cloying, irritating and useless. It was his problem to fix and he was going to do it all on his own. When Dick came along, he seemed determined to defy that at every turn. At first, it had been strange and bothersome, but as time went on, Tim came to find he needed it just as much as Dick did.

Despite all of that, Tim rarely reciprocated the touch. He let Dick pull whatever physical comfort he needed. But Tim never initiated it or returned it—unless he couldn’t find any other option.

Which was why, when Alfred called to tell Tim about a rather terrible night, Tim wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He made it all the way to the penthouse; which he was still questioning his reasoning behind. He stood in the kitchen while Alfred told him in further detail just what had happened on patrol. Damian had complained, rather loudly, that this wasn’t Tim’s problem and he’d best find the door himself.

The only one absent was Dick.

Bad patrol was normal, it was expected. But that didn’t change the fact it was still hard to deal with.

After one very quiet sigh, Tim stepped around Damian and out of the kitchen. He moved quietly down the hall and to Dick’s bedroom door. He didn’t bother to knock. Based on what Alfred said, Dick wouldn’t answer if his door was knocked down by a battering ram. Tim stepped inside the dark, messy room.

“Dick..?” Tim called, keeping as quiet as possible. He always approached Dick like he would an injured animal. Actually, Tim treated most things like that.

The mound on the bed shifted slightly. Tim was only vaguely surprised to see dirty laundry fall off of the bed when Dick moved. He suppressed a second sigh.

Slipping off his shoes, Tim padded across the room. He climbed up onto the bed. Gently peeling back the covers until he could find a way under them, he slid under the heavy blankets. It was strange trying to find his way without sight and by touch alone. Still, he managed to find Dick’s arm. He curled his hand tight around it.

“Tim, what are you doing?” Dick asked, voice muffled under his cotton protection.

“Trying to comfort you,” Tim admitted. Finding Dick’s arm was a minor victory, it was only when he was able to find the rest of Dick’s body that he could celebrate.

“You never do that,” Dick said sullenly.

Tim paused, considering his response. He wasn’t good with comfort and he knew he never would be. Yet he was trying. He took a leaf from Dick’s book and pressed close to, stomach and chest lining up against Dick’s back.

“Alfred told me what happened. I thought… I thought you might need someone.”

A heavy silence dropped over the pair of them. Before Tim could start to regret his choice, however, Dick turned over and gather Tim close. His arms were almost crushing as they wrapped around Tim’s shoulders. Tim could sacrifice his ability to breathe. If Dick want to smother him against his chest, then that was just fine.

“Not cut out for this,” Dick mumbled into Tim’s hair.

Tim shifted his arms just enough to be able to get them around Dick’s midsection. “Sure you are.” Dick was certainly doing better than the rest of the vigilante community, considering.

Dick shook his head, his grip getting impossibly tighter. “Messed up a lot.”

There wasn’t much Tim could respond with. He didn’t know what Dick needed to hear. He was good with words but not in the comforting sort of way. Awkwardly, he patted Dick’s back.

That got Tim a small chuckle. “You’re really bad at this, did you know that?”

Tim huffed, hitting Dick’s shoulder blade. “Shut up, I’m trying.”

Dick’s arms loosened slightly but he didn’t let go. It was clear he expected Tim to leave, he just didn’t really want it to happen. So, Tim indulged him. He stayed right where he was. There was no harm in cuddling after all. Not when a man who thrived on touch needed it, anyway.


	3. Hit X

Tim was very much used to waking up alone. He’d come to expect it. A normal morning routine involved the alarm going off and rolling over to sit up to a completely empty bed. To any other normal person, it might have gotten depressing to wake up constantly alone. Yet, Tim preferred.

This particular morning, however, everything was off.

For one thing, the alarm went off. For another when Tim tried to roll over and sit up, something tightened around his stomach. There was a split second when Tim feared the worst. He’d woken up more than once in the grasp of Ivy’s vines or Joker’s ropes. He peeked one eye open, glancing down. Steadily, Tim relaxed.

He slid his hand over Dick’s arm. He shifted slightly to look over the man’s face.

“Why are you awake?” Dick grumbled, eyes squeezed tight and a frown pulling his lips down.

“Because it’s almost eleven,” Tim replied. “And, unlike you, I have work.”

Dick huffed. He burrowed his face into Tim’s neck. “Can’t you call in sick?”

Tim sighed. “No.”

There was a pause, then Dick pulled away in a flurry of limbs and blankets. He launched out of bed and snagged his cell phone. “Then I’m calling you out.”

Tim blinked and sat up. “No, you’re not. I have work. Dick, don’t you dare,” he added when Dick started to dial. Tim lurched out of bed, making a grab for the phone. But Dick danced away from him, rather energetic for someone who had just woken up.

“Hey Lucius. Yup, it’s me. Dick. Yep. I’m calling Tim out.”

“Dick, don’t!”

Dick pushed him away. “Oh, yes. It’s very serious. No, no. I’ll take care of him. Yep. Have a good day. Bye.” Dick hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed. He looked to Tim, triumphant. “So, what do you have planned for your day off, Mr. Drake?”

Tim sighed, shaking his head. He could either fight it or go with it. And considering the fact that he’d come over last night to help Dick, he should probably keep trying to help. “I don’t know. You seem like you have all the ideas. What do we have planned today, Mr. Grayson?”

Dick’s smiled just enough to make Tim seriously regret handing over the reigns.

-/-

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

Dick laughed. He bumped Tim’s shoulder with his own. “No, it’s call using your resources.”

“Blowing me off of the track is not using your resources,” Tim grumbled.

On the screen, his racing character was scrambling to right itself while Dick’s was speeding off into first. Infuriatingly they were on the last lap and Tim knew he wouldn’t be able to fix himself.

“Face it, Timmy. I am so going to win. Mario is going to get the Princess,” Dick goads.

“Mario doesn’t get the Princess in this game. You just get that stupid trophy movie.”

Dick shot him a look. “It’s my video game, I’ll make whatever I want happen.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You didn’t make the game.”

“No, I just rule at it.”

Avoiding the urge to roll his eyes a second time, Tim pulled his own little trick.

“You little–!”

The little car shot across the line and confetti exploded over the view. Cheerful music spat itself out of the speakers.

Tim gave Dick the smallest victory grin in the history of success.

“Best fifteen out of twenty?” Dick asked, already starting up a new race.

“Dick, you can stay still. The controller responds to your thumbs,” Tim commented as he watched Dick tip side to side as he guided his character through the track.

Dick snorted. “It’s moral support. So the character knows it isn’t the only one suffering. And hey! Now you’re cheating!” He shoved Tim’s shoulder, almost throwing him off of balance.

Tim laughed quietly. Granted Tim knew he’d have work to make up tomorrow, he was very glad to take the day off. He’d have to try the whole 'comfort Dick’ thing again.


	4. Out on the Town

Dick finally allowed Tim to leave the penthouse at the end of the day. Although he promised that if Tim didn’t call with in the next few days, he would have a surprise waiting. Surprises from Dick were not something to be taken lightly. Considering the last time Dick threatened a surprise, Tim ended up with a school locker full of singing teddy bears.

Despite the thought being planted into his mind, Tim returned to work. The reports had managed to pile up over the single day of missed work. They were long and tedious enough to forget Dick’s words.

The next three days didn’t bring any surprises.

Tim should have been more grateful for that, since it allowed him to finish his work. Yet, he couldn’t be bothered to silently thank whatever was holy in the world. These reports were more important.

However the surprise wouldn’t be that long in coming.

On the fourth day, Tim had locked himself in his office. The board members were complaining about the up coming quarter and demanding to have contracts fulfilled. It left Tim stuck in a pile of papers and a steadily building headache.

He really didn’t need the knock on his door.

“Come in,” he said. He could still be polite when he needed to be.

The door pushed open and Tam peeked her head in. She was frowning in the sort of way that suggested she was irritated and confused by something. “Tim, there is someone asking for you down in the lobby.”

“Did you tell them I was busy?” He asked, not looking up from his newest contact.

“Of course. But they’re not leaving.”

Tim sighed, lowering his pen. “Can’t get rid of them?”

Tam shook her head. “Go down there. You should get lunch anyway.”

“I need to get—“

“Those reports can wait an hour. Get out of here.”

Tam was not a woman to argue with. Tim knew that for a fact, he’d tried. With another sigh that only garnered a glare, he pushed out of his chair.

“Deal with the guy in the lobby. Then go on lunch. You better be gone for an hour.”

Tim nodded, swinging his suit jacket on. “All right. I will,” he promised. He stepped around his desk. With only one last glance back to the reports, he moved out of the office.

Getting downstairs revealed no more clues to the identity of the stranger. The man, tall and rather furious looking stormed up to him.

“Mr. Drake, right?”

Tim wasn’t sure if he should answer, but then it had to have been rather obvious who he was. “Yes?”

The man thrust an envelope into his hand. “Read it and follow the instructions.”

Frowning, Tim opened the letter and read over the writing. It only made the frown deepen. “You’re Lee Cronson? And you’re supposed to take me to Gotham Park?”

“Yeah,” came the sullen reply.

Tim refolded the letter and slid it into his pocket. He pulled out his phone, tapping a code into it, he decided he could feel a little safer about going with this man. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The trip to the park was quiet and rather tense. Why Lee was so angry, Tim never found out. But then, he didn’t really care to know either. He was let out of the car and shooed to the walking bridge.

Tim got to the bridge and was greeted by a much more cheerful looking woman.

“Timmy?”

“Yes.” Tim managed to not look annoyed by the name use.

“These are for you,” she said, handing him a delicately wrapped silk flower.

Tim wasn’t much for flowers, but he took it from her anyway. He didn’t want to be rude and it looked very expensive anyway. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Could you go to the gardens with this?” She passed over another envelope. “But don’t read it.”

Tim could suppress curiosity if the instructions called for it. He turned away from the woman after a quick farewell and headed to the gardens.

The last time he’d been there, he’d been caught by Ivy and was forced to sit through a rather uncomfortable truth-induced interview. He wasn’t pleased to have to be going back, but he was interested to know what would be waiting for him there. He hated to admit that he was, at least, slightly curious about what would happen within this hour.

Stepping through the iron arches, he entered the gardens. He looked around, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

“Mr. Drake,” a young man called to him, waving him over.

Tim moved to him. “Hello. I’m guessing this is for you?” He gave him the recently acquired envelope.

“Oh, thanks. I needed this,” he said after reading its contents. He dipped down and lifted a small package. “This is for you, but you can’t open it until get to the restaurant. Come on, I’ll take you there.”

“Where are we going?” Tim was already walking with the man and he wasn’t backing out just yet.

“My restaurant,” he replied. “Your favorite is Tuscany style Italian right?”

“Right…”

Tim was led out of the gardens and through the park. The young man chattered, a lot. He spoke of his family owned restaurant, his fiance and the dog they were planning to buy. It was pleasant enough to hear but it did nothing to answer any of his questions. When they finally got to the restaurant, Tim had learned not only the man’s name (which was Pietro) but the finer technique in making home made pasta.

“Here we are, our little piece of Tuscany, La Bella Nona,” Pietro said, stopping out of a small, cheerful looking place. “Your table is in the back.”

Tim found himself ushered to a two person table, already set and waiting for him. The other seat was empty and Tim was only infuriated by the fact that he hadn’t figured anything out yet.

Pietro got him into his seat. “When I leave, open the box,” he explained as he poured the wine. “I’ll be back with your food.”

“But I didn’t order.”

“Don’t worry. It’s all been taken care of.”

Without another word, Pietro disappeared into the kitchens; leaving Tim with no answers and a box. The box in question was quickly unwrapped and opened. It had to be the most disappointing present he’d ever gotten. There was only a small slip of paper, folded in half.

Tim lifted the paper and slit it open. “Look to your left,” he muttered. “What does..?“

“I think it means you should look to your left.”

Tim paused at the new voice. He turned his head to look at its owner. And that was when every little clue he should have gotten clicked into place.

“You know, most people look happier to see me,” Dick commented as he slid into the seat across from Tim. “Or, at least, not shell-shocked.”

Tim shook his head, reorienting himself. “You planned this?”

Dick nodded, looking pleased. “Well, yeah. Who else, besides Alfred, knows your favorite dish?”

“Bruce?”

“Please. He forgets his own favorite food. So, like the flower?”

Tim lifted the silk plant. He set it on the table between them. “It is very lovely. A Spinster’s Lily, right?”

Dick nodded. “I figured you’d get the joke.”

A smile pulled itself over Tim’s face. “You’re the only person I know who could put this much thought into a lunch.”

“Not just a lunch, Timmy,” Dick started. “A date.”

Tim quieted and didn’t find an answer until long after Pietro and his fiancé had set down their respective meals. “You could have just asked instead of sending me on this weird run about town.”

Dick swallowed his mouthful of pasta. “Would you have said yes?”

“Not today, no. I was busy,” Tim admitted, spooling some of the noodles on his fork.

“Was, being the key term. You’re here now.” Dick smiled like the cat that’d gotten the canary and the cream. “We can have our first date at the best Italian restaurant in Gotham. And afterwards, I’ll buy you gelato from that place up the street. Then I’ll walk you back to work and it’ll end in a first date kiss.”

Tim was feeling a good deal more affectionate than he expected. “Okay. I look forward to it.”


	5. Under the Spotlight

The rest of the day just didn’t quite compare to lunch with Dick. Returning to work was just going back to grueling reports and grumpy business men, who wanted to see results now. Work had never exactly been a day at the carnival, but now that Tim had something to compare it to, it would just never be the same. Either way, Tim hunkered down to finish his reports on time.

Apparently, finishing on time meant staying at work until well past eleven o’clock at night. Tim only knew it had gotten so late when Tam stepped back into her office and told him the night janitors wanted to know if he wanted his office cleaned. Tim lowered his pen for the final time and pushed up from his desk.

“You’ve got to stop working so late,” Tam commented as they moved into the elevator together.

“The business world doesn’t stop turning just because I’m tired,” he replied.

Tam rolled her eyes. “No. But it’ll fail if you don’t start taking care of yourself. Just because you wear a cape doesn’t mean you can’t get sick.”

“It’s stopped diseases before.”

“Yeah, sure. When the Joker throws something gross, it’ll protect you. But it doesn’t help when you need a nap, now does it?”

Tim was quiet a moment. “I could use it as a blanket,” he admitted.

Tam chuckled. “Now that I’d like to see. Get some sleep tonight, Tim,” she advised, getting out when the elevator stopped at the lobby. She held the door open, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, no. I’m going down to the garage.”

Tam nodded and after a little wave, turned away from the elevator.

Tim hated to admit that Tam was right. He was getting tired and these late nights were not helping. He pushed it away, for now. He had patrol tonight anyway. As far as he was concerned the criminal underworld was far more important than corporate obligations.

Stepping out of the elevator made Tim pause, unsure. The garage was eerily quiet and that Batman induced sense of ‘wrong’ was going off in the back of his mind. Tim cast a cursory glance around the space. One day parking garages would be lit like they weren’t supposed to belong in a bad horror movie.

Keeping the stiffness out of his neck, Tim moved through the lines of cars. He wasn’t more than two cars away from his own, when he heard the shuffling behind himself. He turned to look and got nothing.

“Behind you.”

Tim jerked and whirled around. His arm swung up in defense. It didn’t manage much of anything when it was caught in a tight grip.

“Is that anyway to greet the man who paid for your lunch?”

Tim glared. He shoved Dick with his free hand. “Jesus, I thought you were a criminal,” he snapped, tugging his arm back. His glare deepened when he realized just what Dick was wearing. “Batman… What are you doing here?” He shot a rather pointed look to the security cameras.

“Relax, they don’t have audio,” Dick replied smoothly. “Besides, there is no one here and Timothy Drake-Wayne has talked to stranger people than Batman.”

“Seriously? Come on, you can still get caught.”

Dick huffed, smile dropping only slightly. “Man, I just wanted to come see you.”

“You saw me at lunch. Now, go on. Go patrol,” Tim said, crossing his arms.

“With that kind of attitude one would think you don’t love me.”

“I’m reconsidering.”

It was strange to see Batman looking so wounded. Yet, Dick managed with a slightly over-dramatic hand on his chest. “Oh, Mr. Drake you hurt me so.”

Tim patted Dick’s arm in a slightly patronizing way. “Go get a bandaid, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He stepped around the Batman and continued to his car. He didn’t get very far before his arm was caught and he was swung back around. “Bat–!”

Dick’s lips crushed against his own, effectively cutting off any argument Tim could come up with. He pulled back after a moment. “Still want me to go?”

Tim blinked up at him, lost for a brief moment. He frowned when he got himself back together. “I hate when you do that.”

It took all of the effort Batman possessed to not smirk. “Do what?”

“You know perfectly well what,” Tim grumbled. He tipped up to press their lips back together.


	6. Unusual Wardrobe

For the second time that week, Tim was waking up in a bed that wasn’t his own. Unlike the first time that had nearly made him go into full blown vigilante mode, this time he was much calmer when he opened his eyes. Although, he was admittedly a little more irritated. He liked his bed, in fact he very much preferred it to Dick’s. He enjoyed his house, which was ten times cleaner than Dick’s bedroom. He just couldn’t understand how he kept undermining himself and listening to Dick’s ideas.

While Dick’s idea was essentially ‘let’s patrol together, then go home so I can cuddle with a living teddy bear’, it wasn’t something Tim normally agreed to. He was starting to think he’d gotten a rather uneffective version of Ivy’s sex pollen. That was the only reason he’d been so amiable lately.

Tim glanced at the clock. It was almost ten on a Saturday. He didn’t have work and, for once, he didn’t have a case to occupy his free time. He glanced to Dick, still sleeping next to him. He was very sure that if he mentioned either of those two facts, Dick would want him to stay. It was impossible to say whether or not Tim would say no.

With a small shift, Tim slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. He washed his face, waking himself up. After drying off, he looked over his reflection. He wasn’t much for mirror-gazing, unless it was for spotting injuries. Today he had a rather good reason too.

Tim knew he was smaller than Dick. He was small than most people, a fact he’d come to terms with when he was quite young. But he wasn’t used to have such brilliant examples of the fact. Getting to the Penthouse and up to bed reminded Tim that he didn’t have anything to sleep in. Rather go nude, like Dick had so happily suggested, he’d borrowed one of Dick’s shirts and sweat pants.

The shirt was huge, had to have been so even on Dick. It was tattered and worn and made Tim look like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal since he was six. The sweats were even worse. They hung low on his hips and he had to roll up the bottoms at least four times before he could walk normally.

Tim sighed at the image of the tiny teenager presented to him. He looked away when Dick entered the bathroom. “Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?”

Dick shook his head, looking as close to zombie-form as any living person could. “No, Alfred did.” He paused, blinking at Tim. Slowly he smiled. He stepped behind Tim, wrapping his arms around the other male. “Admiring yourself?” He asked, resting his chin on Tim’s shoulder and looking at them in mirror.

“Just had to have my daily reminder that I’ve had the body of a fifteen year old for the past two years.”

“You do not have the body of a fifteen year old, trust me. I’ve seen it.”

Dick’s words should have been totally innocent, but when it came from that mouth and with that tone, Tim’s face was heating in seconds. Tim cleared his throat, refusing to meet Dick’s gaze in the mirror.

“You’re just short. Which I adore,” Dick added, straightening up. He patted Tim’s shoulders. “You’re too cute for this planet.”

Tim huffed, turning to push him away slightly. “Okay, okay. I get it. Be happy with who I am.” He stepped back into the bedroom, with Dick trotting after.

“Hey, I should try on your clothes,” Dick commented, lifting one of the dress shirts Tim always left, just in case.

“I don’t think so. You’ll rip it,” Tim replied, tugging the sweats back up.

Dick ignored him. He stripped off his t-shirt and tossed it on the floor. Tim would have complained about the treatment of the clothing, if not for the fact he was allowed to look over Dick’s sculpted chest and stomach. Just another tag on the list of things that separated Dick and Tim physically. Tim could never hope to be anywhere close to that muscular.

“Dick, you rip it and you owe me a new one,” Tim complained, watching Dick pull the shirt on.

Dick flapped a silencing hand at him. Returning the hand to the buttons, he started to close it up. The white fabric stretched tight over Dick’s arms and chest. The buttons looked so very close to popping off. It was like looking at a bad pornography model, with how tight everything was. He turned to Tim, grinning triumphantly.

“So, how do I look?” He asked, dropping his hands onto his hips, the seams protesting the movement.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Like a Playgirl model. Come on, take it off before it tears.”

“Do you really think I could tear it?” Dick shifted as if interested in the idea.

“I’d really like it if you didn’t,” Tim answered with a frown.

Dick curled his arms, flexing. The shirt was impossibly stretched over the thick cords in Dick’s arms. It was almost alarming and looked just a tad painful.

“Dick, don’t,” Tim protested, moving across the room to stop him.

“Oh, Timmy. You’re no fun.” Dick stopped anyway. He reached forward to gather Tim in his arms, despite the disgruntled expression. “I was just teasing.”

Tim huffed, thumping Dick’s chest with his palm. “Threatening to rip my clothes is not a tease. It’s just rude.”

Dick chuckled. “You’re so uptight. You need to just relax.” There was a pause where something horrid crossed Dick’s mind and Tim had already convinced himself he wouldn’t like it. Then Dick’s hands tightened under Tim’s arms and he lifted the smaller man up into the air.

“Dick–!” Tim squirmed. His hands gripped around Dick’s biceps, either for support or leverage should he need it.

Dick laughed, still holding him up although not much higher than eye level. “Come on, Timmy, relax,” he chided. When Tim only looked more annoyed, Dick lifted just a bit higher.

A sharp tearing sound echoed in the room.

Dick stopped, eyes widening.

Tim glared down at him, hands tightening to an almost painful level. “Please tell me you did not rip my shirt.”

Dick swallowed. “Uh, okay. I didn’t.” He cast about for a topic change, still awkwardly holding Tim off of the ground. “You’re pants are falling off,” he commented finally, cheeky grin coming back.

Tim’s eyes narrowed.


	7. Change in Threads

Tim adjusted his pants for about the fifth time. They were too tight to be comfortable. Outside of tights, he’d never worn something this constricting. He couldn’t believe people actually wear clothes this tight.

Dick’s hand curled around his wrist. “Stop playing. You look great.”

Tim glowered slightly. “My pants are too tight.”

Dick’s slight smirk was just enough to show he didn’t mind. He ruffled Tim’s already styled hair. “Don’t worry. You’ll fit in, I promise.”

Tim pushed his hand away, fixing his hair. “You don’t know that. I feel so weird.”

“Weird? Why?”

“All this make up and this ridiculous amount of jewelry,” Tim mumbled, twisting one of the rings around his finger.

“That’s sort of how they dress, Timmy. Besides, you’re pale and lean enough to fit right in. I’m telling you, you’re perfect.”

Tim sighed softly, finally stopping all of his fiddling. “Okay, if you say so.” He glanced up at Dick.

Whatever he said, Dick was clearly the one who looked better. His pants were just as tight as Tim’s, if not more so. His tank top was so snug against his skin it didn’t leave much to the imagination. Apart from a little hair gel, that was all that made up Dick’s under cover outfit.

Under Dick’s advisement, Tim was stuck into layers of clothes and jewelry. Tight pants and boots. Black t-shirt and white long sleeve under shirt. He was going to a night club, why Dick suggested layers was beyond him. Thick bracelets hung on his wrists and dull rings adorned his fingers. Dick’s entire reasoning was that it was a gay club and he was very sure this would be someone’s type.

“You’re still fidgeting,” Dick whispered to him.

“Well!” Tim huffed. He lifted his hand to rub under his eye. The black khol was strangely thick against his skin.

“Stop, you’ll mess it up,” Dick warned, catching his hand again.

Tim frowned. He was about to reply but they’d reached the door to the club.

“IDs,” the bouncer grunted at them, glancing over the pair.

Dick flipped out the plastic cards. He smiled brightly at the man. “Busy tonight.”

“It’s a Friday. What do you think?” The man responded, handing the cards back. “Go inside.” His hand pressed briefly against Tim’s back to push him inside.

Dick grinned to Tim, apparently already considering this mission a success. “Still remember the plan?”

“Yes,” Tim grumbled, only vaguely irritated that Dick asked. “So long as you remember your part.” He arched an eyebrow when it took Dick a little too long to respond. He look to what caused the distraction; a young man in a bright blue shirt.

Dick looked back to Tim. “Yeah, yeah. I got it. Go on, to the floor.” He ushered Tim to the dance floor.

Yet another thing Tim didn’t understand why he was doing it. Dick should have been the one on the dance floor. He would have moved perfectly between the mess of bodies and in the pounding music. Instead, Dick was the one to be doing negotiations. Somehow, Tim was very sure the mission had just turned to an experiment on his comfort zones.

Despite his hesitation, Tim was almost instantly dragged along to dance with someone. A tall, blonde with sharp green eyes and a smile that made erotica novels bow their heads in shame.

“You look new,” he said, hands drifting over Tim’s hips.

It took a second for Tim to get his throat to unstick. “Yeah, first time. I’m guessing you come a lot.” Not his best response. It wasn’t even close to his worst.

Green eyes chuckled. “You could say that.”

Tim was sure he missed something. Instead of worrying about it, he focused on moving his body in a way that wasn’t embarrassing or awkward. He wasn’t sure if he was successful. But no one was moving away in fear and Green Eyes was still there, so he had to assume he was doing okay.

Tim had no idea how long he was dancing. He wasn’t even sure the song had changed. All he knew was that it was long enough to make his head hurt and his breathing a little heavy. “I need a drink. Please, excuse me,” he informed Green Eyes. He pulled away, missing whatever the response was.

Getting off of the dance floor proved to far more a feat than he thought he could handle at the moment. He’d barely gotten two steps away from it before his arm was caught. He turned to look.

A large, gruff looking man frowned down at him. “You Elliot?” He asked, not that it looked like he cared either way.

Tim nodded, mute.

“Come on. Your friend just got you a deal.” His hand tightened and he practically dragged Tim to the far back of the club. Had this not been part of the plan, Tim was very sure any normal person would have panicked by now.

Dick gave him a cheerful wave when he came over. “Hey Elli. I found someone who can pay you for your… skills.”

Tim glanced to the man in question.

The whole reason they were stuck on this ridiculous mission in the first place. Julian Brackston had recently shown up in the Gotham underworld. He bought and traded in the world of human trafficking. His specialty was underage boys. It was hard to tell who the man would take next. So, really, this entire mission was a gamble. But, it seemed Dick had at least gotten them close.

Julian was an oddly charming looking man, for someone who dealt in such a seedy industry. He gestured for Tim to sit down next to him. His arm was around Tim’s shoulders the second he settled down. “Your friend tells me you’re only sixteen.”

Tim swallowed and nodded, looking just guilty enough to be convincing.

“You know this is my club and I do have rules.”

“Yes, I know,” Tim admitted. “I just really wanted to get in. I’ve heard so much about you and this club.”

Julian smiled, expression so close to a sharks. “And was it worth it?”

Tim nodded. “Yes, very much so.” He glanced at Dick. “What else has he told you?”

The smile shifted slightly. “He told me about your talents. Would you like to show them to me?”

“Will it get me out of trouble for being underage?”

The tips of Julian’s fingers trailed up Tim’s neck to play at the fringes of his hair. “No, I do believe that you’ll be just fine.”

Tim shifted a little closer and slid his hand over Julian’s thighs. “Then I can show you whatever you want.”

Julian pulled up out of the table. Tim moved with him. They both looked back to Dick.

“I’ll wait here,” he replied with a smirk.


End file.
